There is a 79.153% chance that the addition of the regulator and the increased power output through the chronyte core, has not only traversed space, but also time. However, instead of just moving Gamma Object, the Port exchanged one object for another consistent with the genetic properties of Gamma object and its container. According to the data gathered by the Retrieval Team, the scattered resonant energy is being emitted by particles of sand and several unknown sources. My calculations estimate that in total, if gathered, the sand emitting the resonance would almost be enough to make a test tube equal in size and shape to the one transported in P.O.R.T. 101.
A bead of sweat rolled down Herb's left cheek. He stared at the display for a moment, closed his eyes, and wiped the sweat from his brow. Opening his eyes, Herb sat down at his desk as he addressed Julius.
Julius, contact RT 1.
A moment later, Simmons responded.
Simmons here... What can I do for you Doc?
Herb leaned forward glaring, with an intensity that Simmons hadn't seen before.
Commander, are you still picking up residual resonance from previous Ports?
Simmons looked down at the pad in his hand, tapping, and then pausing before he looked up to speak.
Yes... some...
Herb's glare intensified as he sat back in his chair shaking his head.
Roundup any objects in the area, still resonating. Give me a list of any objects consistent with our test objects, including their basic components and materials.
Simmons didn't like the look on Herb's face. He didn't like it one little bit.
His brow wrinkled and an obvious look of concern on his face, Simmons had to ask.
Herb, what's going on?
The intensity was fierce, but Herb managed a little smile.
I think that I know, but I really hope that I'm wrong. Avery... I know that I'm asking a lot of you and your men, but for now, you need to trust me. Just hurry...
ASAP, Simmons barked. Turning to the side, Simmons continued to bark at his men.
Okay! You heard the Doc... Move out! DOUBLE TIME!!
As the image of Simmons and the beach blinked out, Herb's fearful intensity melted into adamant determination.
Julius, have you detected any climatic or atmospheric disturbances since Port 101?
Julius responded without hesitation.
Bringing it up now... A low pressure system appeared over the ocean, just off the coast at the same time that P.O.R.T. 101 was initiated.
I'm also detecting smaller pockets of atmospheric disruption over Europe, Bermuda, Japan, The Atlantic, and over the New Republic of California. Aside from their appearance, they appear to be having no effect on the climate in any region of the world.
Herb nodded, as if he'd expected what Julius had observed.
Keep track of their progress... Herb said. Start monitoring local news and police reports for anything out of the ordinary. Let me know when the RT transmits the results of their search. Begin recording O-872 when I get there. I've got to confirm your theory.
Julius responded.
Understood... Recording on standby... Monitoring global news and authorities… I'll notify security that you're coming down.
Herb rushed down the hallway, trying to catch the lift before the doors closed. He felt his heart racing. Beads of sweat lined his brow. He stepped out onto the terrace, overlooking the beach. The air was crisp and damp. In the distance, Herb could see a dense fog bank building.
The water seemed unusually calm. Nothing seemed to stir above or below the surface. Seagull, Stork, and sea life seemed to stand still. The air was still, hanging silent, not ruffling a leaf or stirring a breeze.
Boop... the lift door opened...
Herb took a deep breath and rushed into the lift just as the door started to close. Under his breath, Herb spoke. Dear God, let me be wrong.
The lift doors closed.
Chapter 05, Retrieval
The retrieval team continued to scan the beach. Scattered along the coast, from arrival to capture point, earth, air, and sea were abuzz with activity. Divers bobbed up and down in water, as they surfaced to deliver fresh samples to collection crews, skimming back and forth across the malevolent stillness of the sea. In the sky, floater crews took atmospheric, magnetic, and chronetic readings of the ever growing visual disturbance in the sky. Despite its ominous and chaotic appearance, the surrounding area was eerily calm.
Beyond the swirling darkness, covering a tenth of the sky, it was a beautiful day. The sky was a soothing shade of blue, shrouded in a thin blanket of mist which hung just above the horizon. The Lunar belt, an asteroid belt that spanned the distance from the Earth to the moon, was just becoming visible, as the sun settled into its daily wane.
On the beach, men paced to and fro, scanning and scooping, carefully extracting any grain of sand or particle that gave off chronetic readings consistent with Port energy readings.
Commander Simmons, who'd managed to be tall and stocky, bounded from one search to another. Not really one to micro-manage, Simmons had heard the panic in Herb's voice, not to mention that Simmons felt a little uneasy about being so close to a silent hole in the sky.
Simmons, bellowed.
Rick!! Rick!!!
That's Rich, sir...
Right, Rich... What's our status? We almost done here?
Sea teams are reporting an all clear, commander. They've gathered as many samples as they can find. They’re just making a final pass, to make sure that they haven't missed anything.
Fine!
Rotate the sea teams... Different eyes, on different sections... I don't want anyone to overlook something, just because they've been there before. I get the feeling that we can't afford to make mistakes this time.
Understood, sir… The sky teams have already completed and transmitted their scans to the lab. They’re packing up and preparing to assist the beach crew with one final pass. We're almost done here.
Rich, is there any word from the Doc?
None, sir...
But we did get word from RT 3.
Earlier today, we picked up chrontye readings further inland. They were pretty strong, so I sent RT 4 in to check it out.
The signal led them to a re-purposing facility. After sifting through tons of their stores, the signal seemed to emanate from a glass mug on the manager's desk.
What do you mean a mug? Simmons' face twisted, clearly doubtful and confused.
Yeah, but wait... it gets weirder... It wasn't coming from the entire glass, just parts of it. Rich said, as he directed Simmons' attention to the image on his com pad.
Now Simmons knew that something was off.
Parts of it, Simmons asked?
There's more, sir...
It was a glass mug that belonged to his father, the manager's father... more than 40 years ago.
Apparently, it was one of the first products made in the facility.
Did they get the mug, Simmons asked?
Yes, sir... It should be on its way to the lab right now. Rich grinned and continued monitoring the remaining search teams.
Under his breath, Simmons asked... What the hell is going on Doc?
Chapter 06, Displacement
Alex slowly came around. His head felt like it was caught in a vise and a strange ringing filled his ears. At first, he couldn't focus on anything else. As the pressure and the ringing subsided, Alex tried to stand. He felt a little dizzy, as he leaned forward to stand, but he couldn't move more than a few inches.
Looking down, he saw that he was bound to some kind of chair or table. He still wore his sweats and one of his sleeves was rolled up. It was too dark to see, but he could feel the breeze on his skin. He could also feel a slight soreness in his forearm, where blood samples had been taken while he slept.
Alex couldn't help but feel like he was in a hospital. He could smell the lemony fresh disinfected odor
that usually hits you in the face once you cross the threshold of any hospital. The air was crisp, but tolerable. A faint sliver of light bled in under what must be the door. It flickered now and then. Maybe patients, doctors, guards? Alex wondered...
He remembered a voice... no... voices and a hand resting on his shoulder, just before everything went black.
Does he have it? Do I have what?
Alex asked himself.
The light dimmed below the door... A soft hiss resounded across the room as light flooded in from an open doorway.
Alex squinted, trying to see who'd come in. As his eyes adjusted, two men entered the room, leaving the door open behind them.
One was lean, a little bent, draped in what appeared to be a lab coat. Calling for the lights, his face emerged from silhouetted dimness. He looked friendly enough, but there was something odd in his gaze. His eyes were wide, his smile broad, and his manner pleasing. All the same, Alex got the slightest feeling of dread from the man in the lab coat.
The other man was a mountain, not that he was much thicker than his companion. He was only an inch or so taller than the other man, but his eyes were hard, piercing, and calculating. Alex felt the eyes cutting into his skull, prospecting for any sign of deception and treachery. He wore a black uniform, heavy with pockets, zippers, and comfort. A little rod dangled from his belt. He clasp the end of the rod as he crossed the threshold of the room. As the dimness faded, Alex could see a name tag on his chest which read, "Brock."
Take it slow doc. We still don't know anything about this guy. Brock said, gesturing toward Alex.
Herb smiled, stepping past Brock as he spoke.
Trust me Sgt., If I'm right, he's the least of our worries. But I hope that I'm wrong. Right now, I'd love it if our guest was just another industrial spy.
Alex got a little nervous when Herb said spy.
Where... who... Alex stammered.
Herb chuckled and rested his hand on the edge of the chair.
Can you tell us your name?
Alex... said Alex, as his gaze shifted back and forth between the two men.
Alex... Alex, what? Herb asked.
Mar... Marsters... said Alex, the words catching in his throat.
Well Alex, I'm Dr. Li, Herb...
This is Sgt. Brock. Can you tell us where you're from?
Alex winced, eying them both as he responded.
Can you tell me why I'm being held prisoner?
Herb felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment.
You're not, not really, he said. My men found you wandering along the southern tip of our facility. We do some sensitive work here, so security gets a little suspicious when they see someone running along our private beach.
Can you tell us how you got there? A security barrier surrounds our facility. Every millimeter is monitored by computer. A fly can't enter without us knowing, but somehow you did. Can you explain that?
Shaking his head in disbelief, Alex glared at Herb.
I don't know where I am, but you expect me to know how I got here? The last thing that I remember is going to sleep, setting my clock radio to go off about an hour earlier than usual. Then I went to sleep. When I woke up, I was on your beach.
Herb continued to probe. He wasn't trying to aggravate the situation further, but he also couldn't just come out and ask Alex what year he was from. So, he didn't.
And where were you when you went to sleep?
My apartment! Alex bellowed, more annoyed than he was angry.
Where? Herb asked, not reacting to Alex's apparent anger.
Alex sighed, shaking his head in disgust, as he answered.
In Chinatown... not far from downtown San Fran, said Alex.
Herb's face sank. He felt like someone had just kicked him in the stomach.
Did you say San Fran? Do you mean San Francisco? Herb asked, clutching the phantom pang in his stomach.
Brock stepped forward when he saw Herb stoop over.
Is everything alright, Dr. Li? I'm fine Brock. I probably shouldn't have skipped breakfast.
Brock relaxed and continued to eye Alex.
Alex's demeanor softened at the sight of Herb's sullen reaction.
Yeah... San Francisco! Why? What's...?
Alex's voice trailed of as he looked at Herb. A look of disbelief and dread started to spread across Herb's face. His gracious smile had melted into numbness.
Herb, regaining his composure, turned to Brock.
Sgt. Brock... Please release Alex, get him some clothes, and something to eat.
Brock nodded and stepped into the hallway. Alex could hear the Doc's order being passed along to another soldier who grunted a hardy "yes sir," as he marched down the hall. Brock returned to the doorway, hand clutching the rod hanging from his belt.
Herb started towards the doorway, but turned to address Alex as he did.
Alex, Sgt. Brock will make sure that you get some food and a change of clothes. I'll see if I can't get you out of here as soon as we clear up a few loose ends.
Alex nodded. Herb nodded in response and left the room. Brock approached Alex and removed the restraints. Alex rubbed his arms briskly, just realizing how numb they were. Brock smiled, which made Alex shudder. Brock stepped into the hallway and closed the door. Alex made an audible sigh of relief, as the door closed. Brock smirked and locked the door.
Herb burst into his lab, commanding his computer on.
But before Herb could say "on," Julius began his report.
Commander Simmons has just transmitted the latest RT reports. His teams have retrieved as many of the port samples as possible. One anomaly reported...
One of the samples appears to have merged with a mug that has been sitting on a man's desk for more than 40 years. Despite its age, it appears to be emitting a stable level of Chronyte energy.
Energy readings are consistent with Port101.
Herb's fearful desperation had turned into fascination. Even though he feared what could happen, the fact that it might be happening was intoxicating.
Stable? What is the status of the emissions from our guest in O.872?
A live feed of Alex blinked onto the upper left corner of Julius's display, accompanied by several lines of data to its right, as Julius responded.
Emissions from Alex Marsters have stabilized. Cellular cohesion and chronyte radiation are no longer in flux. All readings appear to have leveled off to match those emitted by the mug.
That seemed to be further evidence of what Herb had suspected, but there was still more to consider.
What about the disturbances in our atmosphere? He asked...
A cascade of video feeds from around the globe filled Julius's display, then Julius responded.
According to reports, they don't appear to be having any effect on weather, tides, nor tectonic plates.
However, concentrations of chronyte in the vicinity of each disturbance seem to be draining at an alarming rate. Nothing appears to be absorbing it. It just seems to be fading. As a matter of fact, unless you scan within a centimeter of the source, chronyte levels read as zero.
Herb could hardly deny the mounting evidence, but he had to be sure.
Based on the current data, would you say that Alex Marsters and the residual traces of the test tube have experienced some sort of temporal shift? And is there still residual activity, related to Port 101?
Yes, Julius bellowed...
The word echoed in Herb's ears and stabbed at the phantom pang in his stomach.
Yes what? Herb demanded... Clarify!
The throat clearing sound preceded Julius's response.
Residual effects of Port101 continue to grow.
Alex Marsters and the test tube appear to have shifted in time or to be more exact, they appear to have been exchanged.
Herb hadn't expected this. Time shift, molecular reversion, maybe even some sort of genetic acceleration, but temporal e
xchange?
Exchanged... exchanged... he said.
Herb's mind reeled... The possibility of traveling in time almost filled Herb with amazement. It would have, if not for the overwhelming feeling of dread that was turning his stomach. The phantom pangs had evolved into knots.
Time travel was dangerous enough, but exchange... That could be disastrous. It may already be. Herb thought about the disturbances, how the chronyte energy was being drained away. By what, he wondered aloud?
Julius responded.
Please restate your query in a complete sentence.
Herb nearly smiled, but the pangs were keeping him on track.
Bring up a list of the locations where disturbances have been reported.
How many of them are located near known chronyte fields?
There are 127 known commonalities. Blinking lights on the projection of a globe hovered above the desk.
It only made Herb worry more.
List all commonalities and search for any common aspects of each location, aside from the disturbance and the chronyte.
One moment please... said Julius.